


An Unlikely Saviour

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Smut, post escape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Michael is dead. Sara cannot cope. Salvation comes in the most unlikely source.





	An Unlikely Saviour

Sara hated the winter with a passion so intense it could melt the snow that fell in silence outside. The mesmerising shower of cottony flakes tumbled from the clouds that had cast the city into a white abyss. Sara couldn’t focus on one flake through her tears; they all seemed to mould into one, sparkling white curtain that fell at the same time every year but failed to shield the pain she felt so deeply. January 13th was the anniversary of Michael’s death, and was the anniversary of when Sara became broken.

There was one person, one person in the entire fucked up universe who could fix her. Every year he came to her just like he had done night after night, only this time it was different. As soon as he slid back the rickety metal sliding gate that folded flat with a squeak, Lincoln could tell today was the day. In four years, Sara had been the same person he had always known, except on January 13th. On this day, she was just a human shaped cell of a million shattered pieces that he had been steadily rebuilding since the day Michael died.

“Sara?” He called softly into the studio type apartment they shared. It was modern, expansive and had its own private garage access via a less than quiet elevator or a concrete stairwell. Lincoln dropped his keys to the table beside the telephone with a jingle and slid his brown leather jacket off of his shoulders. The material creaked under protest, finally resolved to silence when Lincoln hung it on a brass hook behind the door. “Sara? Are you home?” He gingerly called, his deep voice pitched low enough to just echo off of the Aztec orange walls.

As usual, no answer came. This day was like a disease; dangerous and harmful to those Lincoln loved, even if it was for just one day. One god forsaken day out of the entire collection that sent Sara reeling for the loss of his brother. Lincoln missed his brother, like nothing on the planet; however, he had known him for all of his life. Lincoln had raised him, taken care of him and in the end, he had held him while he took his last gasp of breath and caught Lincoln’s tears on his chest. Michael had taken a bullet, ironically enough, straight to the heart trying to protect Sara. Lincoln didn’t blame Sara, or even hate her. He couldn’t through loving her so much.

Only Sara blamed Sara for what happened. She blamed herself for being there, for not trying to run and taking the bullet in the back. If she had just darted sideways an inch, Michael would be alive and exonerated like his brother. Instead she had stood, frozen in shock, sent bitterly cold by the pooling blood on Michael’s shirt, as Lincoln wasted no time dropping to his knees and comforting his dying brother. She was a doctor. She was supposed to help people. She was supposed to be dead.

“Sara…” Lincoln’s voice shattered her self-loathing like a sledgehammer. Sara head twitched sideways to confirm his presence behind her but she didn’t look at him. Her figure remained slumped on the windowsill, her legs tucked under herself protectively as she hugged at her arms to warm up. “…baby…” Lincoln almost pleaded, smoothing a massive paw down her shoulder and hooking his hand under her elbow to pull her from the cool window pane.

“Leave me alone,” Sara breathed shaking off his touch. Her voice was empty, void of all emotion and full of guilty sadness. She shuffled her body closer to the coldness of the outside world and the sheet of glass that separated them.

“Sara, don’t do this again, please,” Lincoln said with a worried frown. He dropped to squat beside the white, painted windowsill and rested a warmed palm to her bent knee. Sara’s eyes fell onto his hand where his fingers lazily rubbed lines into her flesh through the baby blue fabric of her pants. Sara lifted her heavy head and met his steely gaze for the first time that day. “Please.” He said simply, lightly squeezing her knee.

Sara took in his appearance, letting her eyes trail over the perfectly constructed man she knew was beneath his casual attire. Lincoln wore dark blue jeans that clung to his skin where he was knelt down and his dark brown, thick treaded boots poked out from the bottom. He wore an olive green, short-sleeved t-shirt that had a cream, print on motif on it and gripped at his muscular body. Sara’s watery hazel orbs bore into his ocean blue hues for what seemed like an eternity until she finally looked away to recapture her hold on the falling peace outside.

“Did everything go ok?” She asked in a faux chipper tone, sniffing to clear her sinus from the blockage there. Lincoln audibly sighed, pushed himself to his feet and his boots pounded in thick thuds against the hardwood floor as he skulked to the kitchen.

“I’m not playing this game with you Sara,” Lincoln scoffed, slamming a cupboard closed after he pulled a fine glass from the square, wooden hiding place. He numbly fiddled it in one hand, twisting the cold glass over in his palm before thumping it down onto the dark marble worktop and balling his fist on the counter. Lincoln’s jaw twitched and a breath escaped his nostrils. He had never had an extended temper, but then he had never met anyone who tried his patience like Sara did.

Sara’s body flinched, physically lifting off of her perch when Lincoln banged his glass into the counter. How it had not smashed Sara was unsure, but she knew she had crossed a line this year. She just couldn’t help it. Since she now had time to stop, slow down and really think about everything that had happened, she was riddled with guilt.

“It should have been me!” Sara screamed through the apartment. Her voice rumbled around the walls, bouncing to and from the decorated interior until it invaded Lincoln’s ears. His heart pounded, his blood pressure rose and he clenched his jaw in frustration. Turning on his heels he stalked from the kitchen to confront the personified anger that was Sara, still suspended in a twisted mass of limbs on the sill.

“Sara, none of what happened was your fault. Why can’t you stop torturing yourself?” Sara pushed herself to her feet and padded towards Lincoln with bare feet that were sweaty and stuck to the floor with every step. Sara was shorter than Lincoln, much shorter and he towered over her in a manner that would seem menacing to the casual observer. In reality, when they fought, Sara and Lincoln were so close to blows sometimes both wondered how they had ever kept their hands off each other.

“How can you stand there, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t hate me for what happened?” Sara spat, her eyes wide and burning from the tears that had begun to fall again.

“Sara, Michael died. He was shot and he died, and nothing you did contributed to that,” Lincoln told her, his voice softening when he saw her tears staining her delicate cheeks.

“I could have moved. I could have taken the bullet, I could…” Sara began, her gaze falling to her hands that trembled and gripped at each other in between their bodies. Lincoln moved his hands in a heartbeat and enclosed Sara’s tiny fingers in his, halting her words and her trembling.

“I don’t hate you for what happened. I was there and you did nothing…” Lincoln began but his softly spoken words were cut short.

“Exactly!” Sara exclaimed, wrenching her hands from Lincoln’s and pulling them against herself. “I did nothing. I saw a man get shot and I froze up. Doctors can’t afford to do that Lincoln. That’s how people die. That’s how your brother died!”

“So, what, you want me to hate you now? Mourn my brother with a revenge plot aimed at the one person I know could of saved him from everything?” Lincoln voice rose slightly and his face was inches from Sara’s. His breath hit her in the face constantly and her eyelids flickered closed with each burst of breath. “I can’t do that Sara. I love you too much,” Lincoln’s voice trailed off and Sara’s head snapped up at his words.

Sara laughed a sad, snivelling laugh and Lincoln held his breath, placed a heavy hand to his hip and ran a hand over his inch long hair. He let his breath out slowly, releasing all the anger he held with it. It was anger towards Sara but not for why she wanted. “What do you want me to say Sara?” Lincoln snapped. “What can I possibly do to make you feel better?”

“Hate me!” Sara yelled so close to Lincoln’s face he turned his head sideways and felt the familiar twitch of his jaw biting shut. “Hate me, and fucking yell at me, and tell me what a fucked up addict I am…” Lincoln’s head whipped back to her with utterly disbelief in his eyes. Her mouth parted slightly and short, rage fuelled pants escaped her lips. “…for fuck’s sake Lincoln! I wish you would just disown me and let me feel the sharp end of forever in my arm one last time!” Sara cried, her sobs racking her body as she rambled.

“I can’t do that!” Lincoln bellowed back, his deep voice vibrating through Sara briefly before being absorbed back up his arms that gripped at hers with a vice grip that would certainly bruise. Sara shook herself from his grasp again and ignored the hot pain that was left against her skin.

“Then stop trying to make everything better!” Sara snapped through clenched teeth as she rushed past Lincoln and ran for the elevator. Sara’s lungs burned from a mixture of tears and needed breath as she ran, and her grey soles pounded faint dull footsteps against the wood.

“Sara!” Lincoln called after her, twisting to grab at her arm as she flew past him missing her flesh and yanking her petite, dark blue hoodie from her body. Sara’s hair flapped against her shoulders, silently patting at the white material until she halted in the elevator. With a grunt she yanked the expanding lattice across the doorway, locked it in place and slammed an open palm into the down button next to her. Lincoln didn’t have time to stop before the flimsy gate clattered and shook with the collision of his body weight. “Sara!” Lincoln yelled angrily, gripping at the gate with white knuckles and pressing his face into the metal to watch her decent. “Dammit!” He growled to himself, pushing himself off of the rattling gate and kicking it with enough force to leave a dent in the criss-cross metal before rushing for the stairwell.

The elevator shunted down the two-storey shaft slowly, too slowly for Sara’s liking. How was she supposed to storm out of an argument in a metal box that could have been out run by a snail? Sara’s head whipped upwards when she heard a bang from the apartment and saw Lincoln was gone. He was taking the stairwell to cut her off so when the elevator shuddered to a halt and the mechanism fell silent, Sara pulled the gate open partially, squeezed through and ran out into the snow.

Sara’s feet stung instantly, the frozen ground covering biting at her toes and instantly cooling the warmth of her feet. The snow still fell but it wasn’t a blizzard, or a concoction of rain and slushy flakes; instead it was just tumbling to the ground in normal columns of white powder unaided by anything. There was no biting wind, no sound from the empty streets and Sara didn’t look back. Lincoln’s flat palm stung when the door hit the brick wall behind it with a smack and his breath was instantly taken from him by the cold. His eyes scanned quickly over the area and his boots slipped against the snow when he broke into a clumsy sprint after Sara.

Sara’s feet burned with sharp shooting pains that spread like needles up through her bare soles. Her feet were partially hidden by her pants that kicked up a fine showering of alabaster dust as she ran. Lincoln caught up to her in no time, wrapping his massive arms around her tiny waist and hoisting her into the air to stop her escape. Sara’s breath left her lungs forcefully and her hair tumbled over her face as she clawed at Lincoln’s locked hands.

“Lincoln!” she squealed, kicking her feet against his shins and pulling at the masculine arms that rippled with each movement to still her. “Let me go!” Sara bit through clenched teeth, kicking Lincoln so hard in the shins that they both toppled to the freezing, damp ground. Lincoln let out a grunt of pain and relinquished his hold on Sara enough so that she could scramble free from under his massive weight, clawing at the frozen ground as she did so.

Lincoln stretched out a hand, cold and reddened by the below freezing temperatures and wrapped it around Sara’s ankle. Sara fell forward with a frustrated growl, rolling over to confront her captor as Lincoln dragged her back towards him through the snow and trapped her between his legs. Sara’s fist beat furiously against Lincoln, not any specific part but whatever she could reach. She pinched her eyes closed and more tears fell when Lincoln held her flailing hands in his to stop her.

“You bastard,” Sara choked out weakly, her tears falling freely and her body quivering with her sobs.

“Sara you have to stop this. Move on the way Michael would want you to,” Lincoln said calmly, his shirt growing damp from the snow that fell against his frame.

“Because Michael wanted me to spend the rest of my life fucking his older brother,” Sara spat, her head leaving the snow and her breath hot against Lincoln’s face. Lincoln’s jaw twitched and he turned his face from her words he knew she was only saying out of desperation.

“Look, Sara,” Lincoln began with a low, gruff tone of agitation. “I know I’m not Michael. I never will be, but he was my brother. We had the same parents, the same eye colour, we even shared the same prison and we shared his last time on this god forsaken earth,” He paused, sucking in a massive breath. “So tell me, why can’t you accept that Michael wasn’t perfect and let me love you like he did?”

“In case you forgot, you’re not perfect either.” Sara whispered harshly, her eyelashes flickering when a snowflake fell onto the sensitive hairs.

“So why can’t you let him go?” Lincoln asked with a twitch of his head sideways and a frown. Sara just sucked in a breath and turned from his gaze, her eyes instantly burning from tears that were spurting fourth in a reaction to his words. She stopped struggling and laid still, her soft, rage filled sobs now turning her into a wreck under Lincoln’s weight.

“Sara, why do you do this? Why can’t you accept the life you’ve been given?” Lincoln soothed, loosening his grip on her wrists when she stopped struggling. Sara’s audible cries were shadowed by the silent snowfall and she kept her face from Lincoln, defeated and unable to look at him any longer.

“Lots of people are dead because of me,” Sara bawled. “Why would I want this life?”

“Lots of people are alive because of you too, Sara,” Lincoln rationalised. “I know what’s going through your mind. I know what you think every year on this day, and it eats me up that you’ll never open up to me and let me help you,” Lincoln said softly, leaning forward over her and cupping her face in his chilled palms.

“How? How could you possibly know my guilt, my sorrow, my insatiable need to just end it all Linc? Huh? How could you…” Sara’s angry words were cut off by a fury filled response from Lincoln that shattered Sara’s bones.

“Because I feel it too!” He growled, his fingers gripping at her head, tangling themselves in her rustic locks and keeping her eye contact. Sara was stunned to silence, biting her bottom lip in between her teeth and shaking from the cold. Lincoln’s eyes danced over hers, darting back and fourth across her face that looked like she had just been told everything she had ever known was a lie. “Because I’ve lost everything I had ever loved,” he whispered, ducking his head slowly and resting his lips beside Sara’s ear. “And it’s killing me to know that you’ll never love me as much as I love you.”

As if it were an instinct she had always had, some sort of automated response by her body, Sara snaked a hand around the back of Lincoln’s head and held his face to the milky skin of her neck. She pressed her eyes together tightly once more, letting the last of her tears empty from their ducts and rolled her head to plant a kiss to Lincoln’s ear. “I do love you,” She breathed, her hair catching on the lightly stubbled pattern that littered Lincoln’s jaw. “But I don’t know how to show you.” Lincoln pulled away from her, taking the warmth with him and stopped when their faces were just an inch apart.

“Then let me show you,” Lincoln’s hands busied themselves in Sara’s hair, brushing it from her face and letting his eyes flicker from her hazel hues to her lightly moistened lips. Sara’s response was unmistakable as far as answers went. She pulled Lincoln’s face to hers, crushing his lips against hers and her body instantly warming in the snow.

The kiss was nothing like what Sara had ever shared with Michael. Lincoln was more passionate in his loving, more ardent in his pursuit of her happiness. He wouldn’t let himself be happy until she was. In some respects he was cruel, in others he was the definition of lust. His tongue invaded her mouth with a moan, his hands held her face to his and their teeth bashed against each other. It was rough, and as Sara shivered under his massive weight, it was exactly what she craved.

“Are you cold?” Lincoln breathed, breaking the kiss and looking over her body as it quivered in the snow. Sara nodded, hunching her shoulders and let her body try and desperately generate the heat it needed. “Come on,” Lincoln said firmly, pulling Sara to him until she was shrunk by his bulk, clutching to the thin material of his soaking wet shirt. The snow had not ceased and it continued to fall from the off white sky and place irregular wet patched to their clothes. Lincoln scooped Sara into his arms, holding her to his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the wetness on the knees of his jeans.

The powdery snow crunched under Lincoln’s boots as he tread back towards the apartment with Sara cradled in his arms. He offered Sara a smile that widened when she pressed her lips to his, flicking her tongue out to taste the roof of his mouth through her own smile. Lincoln had to put Sara back onto the ground for a second, for which he apologised and slid the trellis across to the elevator. Sara tiptoed past him into the confines of the metal box, trailing her hand gently across his back as she moved past him.

Lincoln’s skin itched when Sara touched him. It was her silent way of telling him she still wanted this, still wanted him to make everything disappear and leave them as the only two people in the world. Sara resigned herself to the corner of the elevator, resting against her hands that gripped lightly to the cold handrail attached to the wall. Lincoln closed the door quickly and set the elevator in motion with a push of the dirty, extremely used button and turned to face Sara with a rapid pant.

“You know what I want, right?” Sara asked him, looking to the floor shyly and trying to stand on the hem of her damp pants to warm her feet. Lincoln felt his palms tingle and he clenched his fists a little and took a step towards her. Sara’s eyes looked up just in time to catch the lust in Lincoln’s eyes before he caught her mouth in a searing kiss. It was his answer of understanding and made Sara’s melt into him, snaking her hand behind his head and devouring his mouth with her own.

Lincoln pressed Sara hard into the wall and she let out a cry of pain when her back smacked into the handrail. Lincoln grabbed her hips, swung her sideways and her back collided with another cold, harsh, metallic surface and the elevator rocked sideways. A gasp left her lungs and she clawed at Lincoln’s shoulder, begging him without words to get closer. Lincoln’s hands roamed down her ribcage, over hips and around her behind before he broke the kiss roughly and lifted her off the floor with a grunt.

Sara wrapped her legs around Lincoln’s waist, digging her heels into Lincoln’s spine and pulling him closer to her angrily. He groaned at the sensation. It was a mixture of pain and anticipation and Sara smiled against his mouth, enjoying the fact she inflicted pain on him so gracefully. They had never made love. They had sex, and it was hot, fast, and sweaty and something they both so desperately needed every time they did it. This time would be no different.

The elevator juddered to a halt, shaking its contents sideways and Lincoln clutched Sara to him to stop them falling. Sara’s grappled with the bottom of Lincoln’s shirt, peeling the damp fabric up his body and over his head. She dropped it to the floor on the elevator and it hit the surface with a wet smacking sound. “We’ve stopped,” She said huskily, raking her nails gently over Lincoln’s neck when he began kissing his way down her jaw whilst tugging up the hem of her white, cotton top. It was even more soaked than his, but the sound of it colliding with the floor was dissolved when it landed on top of his own discarded shirt.

“I know,” Lincoln rasped. He looped his fingers into the straps of Sara’s bra, pulling them down roughly and allowing her breasts to spring into view. A gust of cold air from the elevator shaft hit Sara’s bare torso and her nipples prickled and tightened to attention. Sara let out a earnest moan when Lincoln dived his head into the homely valley of her bosom and lapped at her cool skin, sliding his tongue sideways and eventually capturing a taught nipple in his hot mouth.

“Oh yeah…” Sara breathed, slamming her head back into the side of the elevator with an echoed thud. Lincoln’s hand found her other breast and he mirrored the action of his tongue with his palm, kneading and pinching at her delicate skin until she cried out for more. “..oh god, fuck me Lincoln,” Sara begged against his ear, her hot damp breath tickling at the sensitive skin there.

Lincoln’s already tight jeans grew tighter and he pressed his crotch into Sara’s, angling his hips so that she could feel him. “Oh…” Sara sighed into the elevator and felt Lincoln smile against her skin. “…I want you inside of me,” she almost growled, peeling her eyes open and pulling his face back to hers for another blazing kiss. Lincoln flattened his hands against Sara’s bare back, pulling their naked bodies together and lifted her from the wall with a groan. He took a few trembling steps sideways, spinning them both around and slamming Sara into the side of the elevator wall again. This time she rested on the handrail and Lincoln’s hands trailed over her body, gripping into the waistband of her pants and underwear and pulling them down over her behind with a forceful tug.

Sara gasped when the cold, metallic rail collided with her fleshy behind but Lincoln did not stop his hasty disrobing of her for a second until she was naked. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. She needed for Lincoln to want her as much as Michael had. Sara pulled her lips from Lincoln’s with a smack and he panted against her face, his breath ragged and uneven as it left his lungs. Sara reached forward and yanked at the antique brass buckle of Lincoln’s belt, freeing the pin and wrenching the leather aside until it went slack in her hands.

Lincoln’s hands joined hers, fumbling incoherently with the metal fastening until the unzipping sound of a metallic fly entered Sara’s ears. Sara’s smoothed her hands into the sides of Lincoln’s jeans, over his hips and his behind and then back up his back a little until she plunged her hands back down under the waist of his boxers. Lincoln’s abdomen expanded and contracted erratically, emulating his breathing as Sara ran her tiny, nimble hands of his skin. Sara pushed at the fabrics, sliding them both over the curve of Lincoln’s body and letting the weight of the belt drag them to his ankles with a clatter.

“I…” Lincoln began but Sara silenced him with two fingers pressed tightly to his lips.

“Don’t…” Sara said, her voice laced with a sadness that was easily recognised through the desire. She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand in her, moving both of them and forcing him to grip at his erection. Instinct took him over, and Lincoln started stroking his length brusquely while Sara tickled her hands through the fine line of hair that grew from his pubic region. Lincoln let out a much needed breath, his eyes fell closed and his forehead bumped into Sara’s when his head lolled forward weakly. “No words.” Sara whispered against his lips before sucking on them hungrily, forcing Lincoln into another gut wrenching kiss.

Sara’s tiny hands framed Lincoln’s face, cupping his bristly cheeks in her soft palms and holding his mouth to hers. Their tongues clashed, sliding over one another without inhibition and remorse. Lincoln shuffled closer to Sara and his hand brushed the inside of her naked thigh each time he slid his hot palm over his length, the blood coursing through his blood so quickly he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Sara parted her legs wider, balancing herself on the waist high handrail and bracing herself with two steady hands on Lincoln’s shoulders.

One of Lincoln’s hands reached between them and disappeared inside Sara briefly, exciting more of her clear nectar to seep from her essence. With a moan, Sara’s squeezed her knees into Lincoln’s hips, crushing him between her legs feebly and digging her nails into his skin. Lincoln slid his fingers back and forth over Sara’s sensitive core with a low, muffled grunt against her open mouth, slicking her opening for his arrival. Lincoln swapped hands, gripping his erection with his lubricated hand and smearing Sara’s womanly ejaculation onto his penis before positioning himself at her entrance.

It was hot, raw and pornographic. It was what Sara expected from Lincoln. Occasionally he was slow but she could tell it was not his style of loving. He constantly held back, afraid to hurt her or scare her away from him. Lincoln couldn’t remember the day he had first had sex with Sara but to Sara, it was as vivid a memory as the day Michael left her life.

She still smelt Lincoln’s sweaty bulk hovering over her, his hair barely growing back and yet still pressed to the pulse that raced in her neck while he buried his face in her shoulder. She could still recall the way he moaned her name, so urgently needing her to whisper his name back to him but it had never come. Sara couldn’t deny she had longed for his contact since Michael died, eventually taking it upon herself to show up at his apartment and pin him to his bed without a word, riding him bit by bit until he could take no more and had flipped them over and pounded her until her insides hurt. It was from then, that exact moment of Lincoln’s newfound ecstasy, that Sara vowed never to enjoy their sex until it left her aching in that exact way the next day.

Their kissing stopped and Lincoln gently parted Sara’s labia with indulgent strokes of his fingers. It was a masterful skill he had learned sometime ago and he always accompanied it with a soul spinning look into Sara’s eyes. Their gazes locked and Lincoln let go of himself to hold Sara closer to him. There were no words, just quick exchanges of guttural moans and primal growls as Lincoln pushed home with a painful thrust. Sara winced and her face contorted but her body responded with a shudder of pleasure and her legs locked once more behind Lincoln’s back.

Sara’s squeals vibrated around the elevator, bouncing off the walls and being absorbed by the white, noiseless snow of the outside world below. Lincoln muttered her name, over and over on each pant that was expelled from his body with each thrust. He was hard and relentless, moving in and out of her without concern; giving her exactly what she had wanted. Lincoln’s hand snaked up Sara’s back, inching across her skin like a flickering flame. He run his hand into her hair and gripped a handful of her auburn locks in his fist, pulling her head backwards and exposing her neck to him.

Sara let out a shrill cry and her shoulders began to burn with the friction caused by the callous, rusted wall of the elevator compartment rubbing against her skin. Lincoln’s teeth found her skin and he nipped at it greedily, replacing his bites with a lick or a kiss immediately afterwards. There was a different kind of love in his technique and it hurt Sara so much that her body craved it. Her body was addicted to Lincoln.

And then it happened. Just like every other time Lincoln had fucked Sara to make her forget Michael, she remembered him. Just like every time Lincoln was achieving his release, Sara felt trapped in guilt. She turned her face away from Lincoln’s, swallowing a foreign obstruction in her throat and pinching her eyes closed when tears stung her eyes. A single, salty droplet trickled down her face and Lincoln turned her face back towards his gently. Sara’s eyes remained closed but the sound of Lincoln’s orgasm filled her ears before it was cut short with a long, slow kiss. Lincoln’s body spasmed, emptying its seed into the warmth of Sara’s inhabitable womb with quick, jerky pushes of his hips.

Lincoln’s hands left her body and found her face once more, cupping her cheeks and tenderly wiping the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. His lips lingered on hers, not letting them part for an age. When they did, Lincoln’s eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air, tying in vain to feed his aching, oxygen starved muscles. Sara’s fingers traced light, feather soft lines down Lincoln’s chest, coming to rest upon his heart and letting the thumping invade her body.

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Sara was fixed for another year, stinging and painfully content with Lincoln still buried deep within her. Sara wrapped her arms around her unlikely saviour, cradling him to her sweaty bosom and silently thanking him with a gently sweeping motion across his soft, downy haired neck.

As fucked up as it seemed to everyone else, Sara wouldn’t take her Lincoln any other way.


End file.
